“You’ve made a man out of my son,” Fyodor says firmly. “It’s the least I can do.” Vadim clears his throat. “Your son was already a man, brother,” he says as he picks up his champagne flute. “He has been a fucking pakhan since he was twenty-one years old.” Do I detect a smidgeon of resentment there?
Boooo tomato tomato 🥱🙄
